


To Join One's One

by GasolineGhuleh



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Coercion, Consensual Sex, F/M, Female oral, Fingering, First Time, Praise, Reader Insert, Religious Guilt, Squirting, Temptation, Vaginal Sex, Virgin Reader, catholic nuns, cock riding, male oral, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29893437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GasolineGhuleh/pseuds/GasolineGhuleh
Summary: Papa iii teases and coercing a Catholic nun to join him in the confessional after pretending to be a priest in her convent. Contains mild religious coercion, but the sex is fully consensual.
Relationships: Papa Emeritus III/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	To Join One's One

**Author's Note:**

> Inquire about your own comm ish on tumblr or kawfee.

You sit bolt upright in bed with a gasp as your heart pounds in your ears, blood rushing to your face to redden your cheeks. The cross clenched in your fist feels more like a mockery than a religious symbol as you realize the slickness that’s sticking your panties to you. Breathing deeply you remember the dream that caused you to waken so quickly, and the blood rushes somewhere else… A moment later finds you on your back once more with your hand between your legs. As soon as your finger slips past your slick entrance you cum, turning your head and biting the pillow between your gnashing teeth to stifle your moans, just in case one of your fellow Sisters is awake inside the convent. Your breathing calms and slows once more to match your heart just as embarrassment wells inside of you, your cheeks blushing bright red for another reason entirely. 

Flinging an arm over your eyes, you lay for a moment to allow your heart rate to come back down as you wrestle with the embarrassment and dirty feeling in your gut. When you can stand it no longer, you stand up and dress quickly, grabbing your rosary from the hook byv the door and hurrying across the convent. Mercifully, the hallways were empty at this time of night (or was it early morning, now?) and you manage to make it to the chapel with no interruptions. 

The chapel is lit will merrily crackling candles at the foot of the statue of Jesus, and you take comfort in their warm glow as you kneel in front of him, crossing yourself on reflex. The prayers come from rote memory and soothe you with the almost melodic lilt to the words, mumbled between your numb lips. You aren’t sure how long the priest has been standing beside you, but you jump in surprise when you open your eyes and see his shoes on the stone floor beside you.

“Father! I’m sorry, I know Sisters aren’t meant to be out at this time of night.” Your fingers fidget along the beads of the rosary in a nervous dance as you watch his face, waiting for some kind of reproach. 

“Sister… Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” He turns and gives you a wink, his bright green eyes nearly glowing in the candle light. “Isn’t it odd, how sensual the carvings are?” When you tilt your head towards him in confusion he elaborates, one long and gloved finger stretching forward to trace a line along the clear cut pelvic bones of the carved Jesus. “He is meant to be alluring, although he is made in the image of God. Tell me, Sister, what kind of drea brought you here this evening?”

“Dream? I—” You cut yourself off as he extends a hand towards you, taking it gratefully and pulling yourself off of the hard floor. “I didn’t have any dreams.”

“Lying is unbecoming in a young woman,” he chides, winking to throw off any of the sting behind his words. “Nothing could pull a young nun from her bed except for a particularly effective dream, you know. It seems to me as though you could benefit from confession, si? I can keep a secret.” When he tilts his head towards you again in gentle persuasion, it’s almost a relief to give in. 

“Yes, Father. Thank you.” You move towards the confessional, sitting quietly in the corner like a beast in repose. The oaken door creaks as you swing it open and take your seat on the proper side, waiting for the priest to do the same. “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” The words come from you quickly, but you stumble before your confession of the dream. 

“Go on, Sister. He does not judge.” Something in the words strikes you as odd, but you forge forward. The grating is enough to conceal his face, but not enough to conceal his leg bouncing impatiently.

“I had a dream of the… amorous type. When I woke, I found that I was aroused.” You pause, swallowing hard. “I touched myself, and when I came, I was ashamed.” 

“There is no need for shame when indulging in pleasure, Sister. Enjoyment is not a sin for sin’s sake. Is eating, then, also a sin? A slice of cherry pie with vanilla ice cream on top.... the sweetness of the cream hurts your teeth.” You wind your fingers through the grating, sliding closer on your seat as he speaks. “The curl of your tongue around the steel of the fork as the serpent curled around the tree… Are these things not meant to invoke pleasure?”

“Enjoyment isn’t a sin but—”

“Do you think the other members of the cloth do not also partake in the sins of the flesh? Do you think their faith prevents them from the feelings that humans crave?” 

“Their? Not our?” The priest falls silent for a moment— a heady thing, full of unsaid words. When he speaks again his voice has fallen deeper, and the sound only serves to ignite your previously tamped down arousal. 

“You pray so hard on bloody knees, Sister, and what has it gotten you? Join me in sin. Join me, and see what it can be like when you forget your standing in this world.” You give an only slightly hesitant sound of agreement and the cool stillness of the box is permeated by the sound of iron on iron as the grating in the partition slides shut. The door in the center of the confessional booth opens, swinging outward towards you.

“Father, are you sure?” you ask even as you duck through the small doorway into his side of the booth. When he shuts it heavily behind you, you whirl around to face him, a sharp gasp leaving you. In the dim lighting that’s managed to eke its way into the confessional you can see that his eyes aren’t matching at all— in fact, one of them is a bright and almost glowing white, piercing in its sudden lust. 

“You may call me Papa. And I am sure.” He holds out a gloved hand to you and you take it, stepping closer into his space as his thighs part to accept you. The opposite hand trails up your side to cup your cheek, tilting your chin down towards him. “Say yes.” 

A thousand thoughts run through your mind at his implication. The pleasure of the dream that had awoken you so quickly earlier in the evening, the feeling of your slickness between your thighs even now, and the feeling of your hand there, coaxing sounds that you so desperately wanted him to hear. All of the pleasure he offered, all of the sin and all of the experiences. All you had to do was just say—

“Yes.” Bolstered by your consent, Papa’s hand wraps around your waist as he tugs you down to sit on his lap, spreading your legs over one of his thighs and tucking you close against him. His lips press against the soft skin behind your ear as his other hand goes to your head dress, unpinning it with a slow ease that gives you plenty of time to deny him. When you don’t, the cloth covering flutters to the floor of the confessional, followed by the pins keeping your hair tied up. 

“Tell me, Sister, what do you think about when you’re alone?” he asks, his lips moving in hot trails along your neck as his other hand caresses your side. The contact feels good, and you can’t help the soft sigh that leaves you as you lean back into his touch. 

“I think about the possibility of a partner… of the possibility of having something that could fulfill me more than my own hand.” Papa’s grip on your side grows tighter as he urges your hips to move, sliding across his thigh in a sensual push and pull that already has you trembling. 

“Do you want me to fulfill you?” His voice has dropped to a gravelly tone and a soft moan threatens to slide past your lips at the sound. When you nod, his other hand falls to your other side as he grips you tighter, helping you find a rhythm to your rolling. A slight jostle and bounce of his leg presses his thigh against your clit and this time, you do moan, a soft and airy sound, easily mistaken for the hushed movement of cloth against cloth. 

It doesn’t escape the notice of Papa, however, and he answers with a moan in kind, his teeth grazing against your pulse point as his own hips begin to move in tandem with yours. You can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against your ass, hot and hard, and the sudden urge to feel it is almost overwhelming. As you open your mouth to speak, however, all that leaves you is another moan as one of his hands moves upward to cup at your breast. 

“You feel me? How hard you make me? Per favore sorella, let me show you pleasure. Let me take you away. Let me love you,” he asks against the shell of your ear, his lips grazing it and giving you goosebumps. 

“Can I see it?” you’re finally able to get out. He pauses his movements, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder with a groan and an abortive thrust of his hips at your words. You continue your motions against his thigh, your cunt clenching at the pleasure when you drag yourself across him in just the right way. 

“I have been longing to hear those words, sorella,” he admits, his hands falling away from you. There’s a moment of slight confusion for you before you catch on, turning with ease and dropping to your knees in front of him, as if in prayer. But the curtain of your hair falling around your face as you lean forward leaves no doubt as to where you are and what you’re doing. 

Papa watches you for a moment, soaking in the image of you on your knees for him before moving his hands to his own lap. He parts the sides of the fake priest robes, revealing a pair of black suit pants. The button and zipper are dealt with quickly enough, and his ungloved hand reaches through his pants to draw himself out. His cock is hard and flushed at the tip, longer and thinner than you thought when it was pressed against you. As you watch he strokes himself once before gripping himself at the base and tilting it towards you in invitation. 

“Can I taste it, too?” Papa bites his lower lip as his head drops back at the thought, his hips rising slightly off of the seat as he shifts closer to you. When he nods you shuffle closer on your knees, your rosary bumping against Papa’s knee as you do so. He gives a wry chuckle at the sight, his hand coming up to card through your hair, guiding you to his cock gently. The first press of your tongue against his hot flesh is electric, and the taste bursts across your tongue with a salty ease as you take him into your mouth. 

He lets you explore him slowly, giving you gentle encouragement when you find something he likes in particular. Your tongue courses along the thick vein on the underside of his cock and you can feel it pulsing in time with his heartbeat. When pre-cum beads at the tip, you take it into your mouth almost gratefully, humming at the new sensations and tastes. It doesn’t take long for your jaw to begin to ache, though, and Papa seems to know your limitations as he pulls you off of him gently. 

“My turn to show you, si? Let Papa return the favour.” You nod and get to your feet, gasping in surprise when Papa stands swiftly and winds his arms around you. He presses his forearm against the small of your back, tucking you close to him as his lips find yours. Papa groans as he tastes himself on your tongue, his wettened cock pressing against the dark material of your habit. His other hand moves swiftly to your zipper and glides it down, helping the thick cloth down your body until it puddles on the floor. Your bra is dealt with almost as quickly, his eyes running over you appreciatively. 

“Papa, I’ve never—” 

“Shh, sorella. I know this. I’ll be gentle, mm?” Papa turns the two of you in a small side-stepping dance until your legs press against the priest’s chair and you take your seat. He falls to his knees in front of you, his hands working at your thighs until you’re comfortable enough to spread yourself for him. His lips press themselves in a hot path along your trembling skin, getting closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. 

With a sigh, you open your legs enough for his tongue to sweep across the crotch of your panties and he groans when he makes contact, the sound vibrating through you. Papa’s hands move to the hem of your panties as he pulls them down, grinning up at you when they cling to your wetness for a moment. Once they’ve joined your habit on the floor, Papa puts a hand under your knee, hefting you leg onto his shoulder before closing his eyes and running his tongue along the soft skin to either side of your heat. When he finally makes contact with your folds, ending with a pointed tongue on your clit, you groan, your legs trembling violently as you grip the edge of the seat in a white-knuckled grasp.

“Oh, my God,” you breathe out, hissing between your teeth in quiet pleasure as he drives his tongue into you. Throughout the ordeal, his eyes stay on yours, watching you carefully for any sign of discomfort or a particular aversion to a movement. When nothing comes, he dedicates himself to the task even further, burying himself in you with gusto and moaning as he coats his chin in your slick. Finally, as the tension is beginning to rise in your gut he pulls away from you, wiping his mouth on his bicep as he looks up at you, his eyes blown with arousal as his chest heaves. 

“I need you, bella… Let me show you what it feels like to be full. Take me inside of you.” This time, there’s no hesitation when you agree, standing swiftly and winding your arms around his neck. You kiss him as he had you, tasting yourself on his tongue. Once more, he turns the two of you around, sitting down on the bench and pulling you backwards onto his lap, your back pressed to his chest. 

“You’ll go slow?” you ask, suddenly timid now that the moment has arrived. His cock throbs against your ass as his hips shift slightly, hands tight on your legs as he positions the two of you properly. 

“As slow as you need, mia cara.” Papa’s lips press against the back of your neck and down your shoulder, hot and reassuring. At his gentle urging, you raise off of his lap just enough until the head of his cock slots against your entrance. You can feel it slip inside of you and you gasp, clapping a hand over your mouth to control your breathing. Instantly, Papa’s hands run down your spine and up your arm, comforting and grounding you. “As you need, Sister, as you need.” 

“I just… sit?” you ask, feeling slightly foolish. You can feel him nod against you, his lips brushing along your shoulder as he peppers you with love bites and kisses. Biting your lower lip, you slowly sink down onto his cock, one of your hands flying outward to slam against the wall of the confessional as a sort of anchor. Still, you don’t stop, taking him inside of you in a slow drag that burns as much as it ignites a fire inside of you. Finally, you find yourself fully seated in his lap once more, his cock buried inside of you fully. 

“See? As simple as that… And now, I simply…” Papa trails off, rolling his hips underneath you and pumping his cock once. You gasp, a shuddering and heavy sound, leaning back into him and bringing up one leg onto the bench. “Si, you are getting it. Such a good girl, mm?” His praise only adds to the fire in your gut, and you allow him to take control for the moment, sliding his cock in and out of you shallowly, the sound of your slickness coating him loud in the small confessional. 

Before long he’s found a rhythm, holding you up slightly with one hand as he pumps into you from behind. He grunts when you join him, starting to bounce yourself off of him in counter thrusts to him, taking him deeper and faster. Papa pulls you close to him roughly, turning your head with his own and crashing your lips together, a tangle of tongue and teeth and moans and gasps. You almost complain and whine in protest when he stops, stilling his own movements and then yours. 

“Wait, Sister… I want to know if… if this is what you like,” he says against your lips, breathing heavily. One arm snakes around to hold your leg while the other travels across your hips to rest above his cock, still buried inside of you. With the motion stopped, you can feel him pulsing softly inside of you as he flexes his cock. His fingers push and press against your clit, finding a sweeping rhythm that has you groaning and twitching in his arms. 

“Yes, yes, I— Just like that!” His lips return to your shoulder, biting and kissing as he speeds his hand, swiping his fingers across your clit and pulsing his cock inside of you until you tip of the edge of orgasm. When you cum, it’s with a flood of gushing liquid, one hand clapped over your mouth to keep yourself quiet as you tremble in Papa’s strong arms, looking down the mess. 

“Oh fuck,” Papa groans into your neck, both arms wrapping around you as he slams himself upward into you twice, finally stilling once more as he cums hard, filling you with pulse after pulse of his cock. “Never met a Sister who could… squirt on the first round,” he pants against you, his chest heaving with heavy breaths as he comes down from his own climax. The two of you take a moment to breathe and sit in each other’s arms, your heart pounding against your rib cage. 

“What now?” you finally venture. The thought suddenly occurs to you that you’ve broken your vows… You can’t stay here. Before you can panic, Papa turns your head towards his and presses a soft kiss to your cheek bone. 

“You come home, sorella.”


End file.
